Distortion
by Medusa-sensei
Summary: [Under heavy revision...]
1. 1

To be the descendant of a man who began something so great, to be the child of a father who never saw his son as a child but as a man who shoulders the responsibility of his heritage, and to be the epitome of everything he _shouldn't_ be- he lives a life dictated upon his birth, a life that rids him of his right to make a choice for himself.

 _This was a curse_ , he then came to understand. The blood that flows in his veins and the name that he bears- this is the curse that he solely was meant to exist for.

It was inescapable. He was hanging on a weak thread, dangling dangerously over death's claim. It was the curse that pushed him over to the brink of madness, and young and naive as he was, all he could do was resist until hollow acceptance grew to overwhelm the part of him that desired for his freedom.

And before he willingly surrendered, against his better judgment, he made one final attempt to fight back.

It was midnight, October 7 when he orchestrated a plan that would inflict enough damage to set back Vongola's technological and weaponry advancement by several years by obliterating their progress. He planted bombs which according to the research department had a very wide range and a very massive destructive force that could penetrate the strongest of materials, and with his unparalleled knowledge of the HQ's interior, schemed like a man plotting a very intricate plan of infiltration and destruction in a den of monstrous beasts.

It was October 14 when he set the bombs off.

Explosions wracked through the headquarters sparing not a single second of comprehension to alleviate the men's gradually escalating plights. Fire engulfed what had used to be the center of operations of Vongola in Italy and anguished screams tore through the silence mercilessly.

And soon, it was naught but a man's voice the echoed within the wreckage which used to be the Headquarters of the revered Vongola Famiglia.

"How could you betray the family? How could you bring yourself to hurt your own men?" the man had cried, bleeding and severely injured yet hurting for other reasons than physical injuries, barely even breathing as he screamed. Rage and fury shone brightly within his eyes like a candle lit with blazing fire and he shook the child violently. " _How?_ "

But the child looked just as angry as the man was, if not even more.

"You forced and taught a mere child to kill since the very day he learned to walk, to carry the sins of his ancestors who committed crime after crime for the sake of this damned Famiglia's prolongation, to conquer the underworld with violence and subject them under a rule of unquestionable authority just as you had for the past four centuries, and you ask me _how_?" he retorted, his mild tone upsetting and unsettling the man whose hands were trembling.

"You are the Decimo!" he told him. "You are the _Decimo_! What you have done is unforgivable! How could you betray us after we have _vowed_ to protect you!?"

The child smiled, bitter and sharp with hatred.

"I never asked for your forgiveness. I never asked for you to swear your loyalty to me. And I never," he glared; ripping the man's bruising hold off of his neck, "wanted to become the _Decimo_."

The Ninth stood behind him, his scepter was alight with the sickeningly familiar Sky Flames. His face was schooled into one of solemnity and terrifying calm as he pressed the edge of his weapon against the child's throat, the sound of his skin burning from the scorching heat echoing loudly within the silence that had fallen over the ruins of the Headquarters.

"It really is a detestable curse isn't it?" he murmured as he gazed into Timoteo's knowing yet helpless eyes. The man understood it all too well. He _should_ understand the sheer severity and weight of this curse and shackles that they bear as the inheritors.

"It is a curse," Timoteo replied weakly, and in a much softer voice added, "and it is our fate."

 _How pathetic._

All it took was a moment before he was being pulled away, shackles and chains harshly wrapping around his body in a bruising hold that knocked the breath out of his lungs, the mere contact scratching and tearing his skin. He closed his eyes as a grim expression overtook his face.

So _they_ were here.

The protectors of the law; the **Vindice.**


	2. 2

_A decade later…_

* * *

In spite of themselves, they both felt their stomach churn at the sight of the injuries on the unnamed brunet's skin and blanched. Those… definitely weren't normal injuries. Lacerations were prominent on his wrists and ankles, gashes were all over his skin, most especially his back, discolorations varying from severity could be found at certain parts of his body, and second-degree burns were visible on the front of his neck and some parts of his hands.

What made it a lot worse was the fact that he looked so young. He looked about 13 or 14 years old and the scars on his skin insinuated that this kind of treatment had been going on for a long time until now if the presence of the fresh blood on some of his injuries were anything to go by.

"...He _is_ alive, isn't he?" Irie asked timidly as he cautiously stood behind his friend with an apprehensive frown on his face.

"Yes, but," Spanner mumbled as he checked for a pulse, "At this rate, he'll die from the amount of blood he's losing."

Irie drastically paled. "F-for now, we have to do something. If someone from the Disciplinary Committee was to find him during their patrol, who knows what they'd do to him. He doesn't look like he's from around here and they might take him to be a potential threat to Namimori," Irie muttered as he gingerly brought one of the brunet's arms over his shoulders while giving Spanner a meaningful look.

Spanner silently nodded as he took the other arm. Namimori High's Disciplinary Committee's influence didn't just spread over the school; it had a massive influence on the town itself. They partook in the enforcement of the law and their authority was unquestionable. If they were to catch wind of some foreigner suddenly appearing in this dubious condition of his with no belongings in sight to identify him, then as unfortunate as the brunet was, he will be faced with interrogation bordering on pure violence. The prefect of Namimori doesn't take to unexpected guests too lightly; most especially if they present a high possibility of obliterating the peace that Namimori has been prided on for so long.

"He's soaked," Spanner pointed out as he adjusted the arm around his shoulder, curiously sniffing at the substance that soaked through the collar of his shirt, "But this… isn't water."

"Yeah." Irie nodded. He directed a narrowed glance towards the liquid trickling down the brunet's fingers that mixed with a bit of fresh blood. "I'm guessing that this is a preservative chemical. Wouldn't you agree? It looks like the one we use."

"But we can't be too sure yet," Spanner said, although he didn't really disagree. That sounded pretty reasonable. "Not until we _actually_ confirm it from him."

"If he ever wakes up, that is," Irie replied dryly.

* * *

As the top students of their school, they, fortunately, had the wits to balance their schedule out to maintain their academics while simultaneously looking after the brunet whom they persistently tried to hide from both the authorities and most especially the Disciplinary Committee.

But of course, doing so has set them on the edge, stuck waiting for the answers because the brunet has yet to show signs of actually waking up.

"It's been three days," Irie sighed as he adjusted his glasses, anxious, "Do you think he's…"

"He's alive," Spanner assured him with the slightest hint of amusement, "You worry too much, Shoichi. If he's survived that long with that kind of treatment, he can survive this much at least."

"...That's a horribly mean thing to say."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Spanner shrugged. "If you're that worried about him, why don't you go check on him?"

Irie took a short moment to simply stare at his friend before relenting. Spanner had a point. Plus, while he was at it, he might as well change the bandages.

"Fine," he said as he stood up from his seat. He went to get the first aid kit from one of the cabinets before leaving the room and proceeding to Spanner's room which they had agreed on to be the brunet's current resting place. In that condition of his, they can't just place him in the living room on one of their couches. He was already wounded enough.

With his attention focused on the first aid kit he now held, Irie failed to notice the presence of another man within the room, seated by the edge of the bed while holding what appeared to be a letter, as he opened the door to Spanner's room. It wasn't until the man had spoken did Irie notice.

"Since when have you been hiding him, Shoichi Irie?"

Startled out of his wits, Irie dropped the first aid kit on the floor and screamed.

"S-Shamal-sensei!?"


	3. 3

The man whom Irie identified as Shamal leaned forward threateningly, his voice a mere growl at this point as he folded the paper in his hand with one swift motion. The lax smile that he usually wore was nowhere to be found, now replaced with a disturbingly nonchalant expression that made Irie realize that this person wasn't the same man who introduced himself as their school's nurse.

Irie… didn't know this man.

"I'll ask you again. Since when have you been hiding him?"

Irie wanted to scream (again), take a few step backwards and make a run for it across the continent. But with the door closed behind him and his almost non-existent stamina, he doubted that he could. It didn't help that Shamal had this look on his face which told him that he won't be leaving this room- not unless he gave him the answer to his question.

"...About," Irie gulped, voice breaking, "A-about three days."

Shamal clicked his tongue and the red-haired teen flinched in surprise.

"It's been days?" the man muttered to himself, incredulous and angry. He raised his head and pinned Irie with a dark look, scowling.

"Tell your friend to stop listening in and to drop whatever he's holding. I'm not going to harm you." Irie was pretty tempted to retort with, You could've fooled me, but instead, reluctantly opened the door to let Spanner in with a miniature device resting within his hands. The slight frown on his face told Irie that they had the same thing in mind.

The doctor scratched the back of his head and sighed. He cast a sideward glance at the - surprisingly still - unconscious brunet before speaking.

"Listen, I'll be frank here," he began, "You should leave this person to me. You can't continue doing whatever you've been doing here for the past three days. It's… dangerous."

Spanner's eyes narrowed. "And how do we know that we can trust you? You barged in our apartment unannounced."

Shamal huffed. "You don't understand. It's best that you trust and listen to me right now."

"We _don't_ understand," Irie repeated, "We just found him on the street, unconscious and seriously wounded without anything to identify him by. Don't you think it'd be weird if we actually did?"

The man raised an eyebrow at the sudden confidence the usually stuttering student has taken on.

"First of all, to answer you," he pointedly stared at Spanner, "I'm not the one that you should be doubting. It's this guy," he gestured towards the brunet, "that you should be worried about. Second of all, it was wrong of you to take someone unfamiliar within your own home and look after them. No matter the circumstance, in any other scenario, had you done the same thing, it would have been game over."

Shamal's voice took a sharper edge. "In fact, has it ever crossed your mind that what if this person was a criminal or a murderer?"

There was a beat of silence in which Spanner and Irie shared a confused look.

"You say it like it's the truth." Irie frowned.

Shamal handed the paper he's been holding towards Spanner and watched with a bitter smile as Spanner drastically paled.

"That's because it is," Shamal replied.

It was a small cut out of someone's personal background information, no doubt confidential. There were no pictures but there was a description of how you would be able to identify him based on his appearance.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," Irie read over Spanner's shoulder, "Aged 15, a c-convict imprisoned for… for murdering," his breath caught, "and… betraying his own Famiglia at the… age of-"

Their eyes widened.

"...5."

"This teen that you took in your own home without any suspicion was bound to inherit the most influential and strongest Mafia Famiglia in the world. He killed his own men with bombs that the Famiglia itself has constructed and created. He was just a child when he was taken by the Vindice to Vendicare not too long after the incident. I assume that you have a very good idea of who the Vindice are and what Vendicare is, considering that you managed to gain access to the deeper parts of the net some time ago. I'm also quite positive that you deal with some underworld business."

Spanner wasn't surprised and he didn't feign to be at Shamal's knowledge of what they've been doing. What did surprise him, however, was the age in which the brunet has committed his crimes. It was impossible to have achieved such a feat at such a young age.

"5-years-old? Are you kidding me?" Spanner intoned incredulously. "He's… a child. He couldn't have taken out a bunch of trained professionals!"

"He's bound to inherit the strongest Famiglia. Five years old or not, he came from the Mafia."

"But that's-"

Shamal heaved a heavy sigh. No matter what I say, it looks like I won't be able to get through them.

"I shall propose you an offer then," he said evenly as he took something from his pocket and smiled.

"Die protecting this murderer," he raised his arm and aimed a gun at their heads, "or live forgetting Sawada Tsunayoshi."


	4. 4

"Doesn't that make much of a difference?" Irie asked with a dry smile, his voice cracking with obvious terror at the sight of the weapon. Not surprising, Shamal supposed, since they were the type of people to work in front of monitors and screens. "You'll probably kill us in the end anyway."

The smile Shamal gave them looked more like a grimace as he tightened his grip on the gun. The information was classified but he had felt as if they deserved to know first, or maybe that was just him sugar coating his intentions of taking advantage of their confusion. Of course, telling them doesn't change the fact that only a number of people were supposed to know of it.

"I thought so," Irie softly said with a bitter smile.

"Then, who exactly are you? What do you want with him?" Spanner's expression was tightly drawn as he spoke. If he was willing to disclose such information, then he might as well tell them everything.

"I was hired by a man who has taken an interest in his… abilities. I'm pretty sure you've come across his name once or twice during the times when you breached the security of - _supposedly_ \- inaccessible sites."

Irie's eyebrows furrowed.

Shamal leaned back slightly, his other arm supporting his weight behind his back, his palm pressed flat against the bed. The gun remained pointed at them. "Byakuran of Gesso Famiglia."

They both knew that name very well; as curious and daring as they were in terms of information gathering through the web, they have learned to determine which people not to cross through observation and more information that they've gathered from anonymous sources. Gesso, Giglio Nero, the Arcobaleno, and the Vongola were some of the untouchable territories. Irie and Spanner were admittedly skilled but they weren't the best.

However, what set Gesso apart from the rest was the fact that this Famiglia has _foreseen_ their approach and has proceeded to discreetly warn them of not bothering to involve themselves with their business.

"So he plans to exploit him?" Spanner asked bluntly with a hint of what could have been disapproval in his tone and expression. He couldn't be bothered to point out how surprisingly _predictable_ it was but this was the Gesso Famiglia- they were clearly of a different league. Who knew what they had up their sleeves for them to do something so reckless. "Does he plan to get on the wrong side of the most influential Famiglia by technically kidnapping their heir?"

"I believe the question here is if the Vongola still plans to keep him as their heir. Given his history, it's not likely, is it?" Shamal returned nonchalantly.

"But who _else_ is there but Xanxus for the position?" Irie questioned incredulously, eyes wide.

Shamal snorted. "Vongola's future is bleak. It's either a criminal who has once been imprisoned in Vendicare for killing his own men or the Ninth's son who staged a coup d'etat to overthrow him. Ironic, don't you think?"

"So the weakness of the strongest is itself. That's one way to go after centuries of domination."

"Self-destruction." Irie grimaced.

"Well, enough with the small talk. Have you made your decision?" Shamal asked, eyes narrowing into a glare as he readjusted his grip on his weapon. "Or would you prefer it if I make the decision myself?"

To his surprise, Spanner smirked faintly.

"There is no need for that, Shamal-sensei."

Irie mirrored his look and Shamal finally came to realize that something was very, _very_ wrong. He glanced at their hands, just in time to see something drop on the floor with a loud crack.

"You've bought us enough time to let us make our own decision."

Shamal was forced to raise his arms to protect his face at the sudden emergence of pink smoke that rapidly filled the room and clouded his senses as not even the shift of wind could help him determine their location. He coughed and his eyes watered; with this thing, even his mosquitos aren't of any use.

"Those damned kids…"

He stumbled as he felt dizziness creep into his head. _A poisoned gas?_ He frantically asked himself with wide eyes as he held his head, waving at the smoke blindly for a moment before the damned thing finally subsided.

Unfortunately, so much time has passed while he waited, standing in the middle of unfamiliar territory.

It wasn't just Irie and Spanner; even Sawada Tsunayoshi's body was gone.


	5. 5

They stared at each other in silence.

Irie had his back against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest and arms resting above his knees, a slightly haunted look on his face. One hand toyed with his red locks from the back of his neck while the other simply dangled in front of him. His eyes were locked on the unconscious teenager's face.

"I don't understand this _at all_ ," he said, sighing heavily, "But we _did_ see this coming, didn't we?"

Spanner was staring at the sky as he stood beside his friend with his hands inside his pockets. He shot a brief look towards Irie before looking up again and shrugging.

"I guess," he muttered as he chewed on his homemade strawberry-flavored lollipop. He'd always kept five or seven of it in his pockets. "We knew from the very beginning that tampering with countless layers of security from different organizations and groups would cost us something someday."

Irie rolled his eyes as he motioned towards the unconscious brunet.

"But this was one of the things we didn't expect or take into consideration."

"I doubt anybody would have been prepared for the appearance of a murderer beaten inches within his death, Shoichi," Spanner monotonously pointed out.

"Point taken."

Another moment shared in silence.

"What do we do from now on?" Irie couldn't help but ask. He didn't sound devastated; far from it, actually. He removed his fingers from his hair and sat back, leaning his head against the concrete and closing his eyes. "We can't go back to school; Shamal-sensei can corner us and see to it that we don't escape a second time. There's nothing to lose anyway; we were on scholarship. We've also taken what we could and we're really, really lucky that we kept our things ready in case of an emergency like this so even if they realize that something's wrong, they'll find nothing in our apartment."

"There's also a low chance that he would rely on the Disciplinary Committee-" Spanner suddenly paused and Irie stiffened, his eyes snapping open.

"The Disciplinary Committee." Irie palmed his face.

"On second thought, he just might ask them and they're usually-"

"- _everywhere_ ," Irie finished.

He was tempted to say that it was an exaggeration to say that they were 'everywhere' but Spanner knew it was quite near. All delinquents had two choices: to abandon their status as a delinquent or work for the head prefect of Namimori. Knowing that there is more advantage to being a part of the committee, they usually preferred the latter. And there was a _lot_ of them to spare for patrol.

"It's easy to book a room in a hotel but bypassing the staff and the members of the committee would be difficult."

"Isn't it at this point that we consider moving to another country?"

"And risk attracting more people like Shamal-sensei?"

"..."

"We don't know how many of them there are and we're up against Gesso."

Irie grimaced at the reminder.

"Not to mention we can't move around freely because we have to carry him around while he's unconscious."

"Let me rephrase my question, then," Irie amended, "Isn't it at this point we consider _giving up_?"

"It's not like you to say that."

Irie ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. They both knew he didn't mean what he just said; he was the one who suggested helping him in the first place. But the pressure was there and it was getting to his head. They were up against professional and trained men who has had experience, a Famiglia who was aware of their presence, and a 'murderer' within their hands. Until now, Irie can't wrap his head around the fact. The brunet was young and he'll be damned if Shamal was saying the truth about him being 5. That was just ridiculously young that it sounds stupid.

Distressed, Irie helplessly looked at Spanner and asked, "Do you really think he's a...?"

 _A murderer?_

The blond-haired teen pushed the lollipop to the other side of his mouth with his tongue as he stared at thin air for a while.

"Yes, but no," Spanner vaguely replied. "Heir or not, it sounds like a far-fetched and exaggerated lie. He was up against the strongest and most influential Famiglia. Their headquarters must have found ways to improve their defense and enhance the resistance of the building from collapse. The Boss of the Vongola was there, too, so it's just stupid to think that a five-year-old child managed to simultaneously blow the headquarters up and kill some men."

Irie tentatively added, "Was he imprisoned in the first place? The details of the incident in the paper said nothing about the aftermath."

"And the injuries." Spanner nodded towards the brunet. "Even with deduction or rule of elimination with regards to every possibility, it's near impossible to determine what has happened to him for the past decade."

Irie buried his face into his knees as Spanner sat beside him.

And once again, they shared a moment in silence.


	6. 6

" _The resistance you have put up has reached far past my expectations but it's about time you gave up, don't you think?"_

 _He tried to breathe, choking on the smoke and the sensation of blazing heat as the flames danced dangerously close to his skin. His eyes closed and he wrapped his arms around himself, chest hurting and head pounding as he tried to shut himself off._

 _He can't let him win._

 _The sound of mocking laughter burned hotter than the flames and he shuddered and shook. He gritted his teeth and his hold on his own arms tightened, far past bruising and more than scarring at this point._

" _You can never escape me."_

 _He shook his head and cold numbness overtook his sweating body. He cried and screamed, his hold wavered, and his eyes snapped wide open._

 _Black tinted his sclera and his warm brown eyes faded to amber._

* * *

Spanner stared at the wall in front of him and blinked when he realized that he'd been chewing on the stick of his lollipop. He took the stick out of his mouth and fished for another, halting only when he realized he's already finished them in the past few hours, and he sighed.

It's been 14 minutes since Irie had left to make a quick trip to the pharmacy to get some bandages since he hadn't actually managed to patch the brunet up. He was already bleeding through Spanner's shirt by the time Irie remembered that Shamal interrupted him before he could have done what he came for and he hastened to go to the pharmacy, leaving Spanner to watch over the brunet in case something happens. Irie had always been the weaker one between them two, but he was faster. If ever he gets discovered during his trip to the pharmacy, it would be easy for him to escape, and if someone stumbles upon the warehouse they were in, Spanner could either fight him off himself or take the unconscious brunet with him and make a run for it.

The blond-haired teen shifted to a more comfortable position, toying with the stick of the lollipop by rolling it between his two fingers, and listening for anything that sounds out of place. He glanced at the bag which held his laptop and turned his head away. As much as he wanted to grab his laptop and keep himself occupied, he couldn't. Not unless Irie was here, he had to make it a priority to keep an eye out for possible intruders.

Suddenly, Spanner's hearing picked up on movement and he tensed.

Except that it wasn't from outside; the sound came from behind him.

He barely managed to evade the metal rod that sunk through the floor despite it being solid concrete and he drastically paled. Looking at him and through him with the intensity of a scorching fire, the brunet stood, evidently conscious, with the edge of the metal rod in his hands.

Spanner cursed as he dodged another blow, this time taking damage and wincing at the gash on his thigh. Wounded or not, the guy was a _monster_. He ran to his left and evaded the large swing which would have made a direct hit with his face had he been a second later in ducking.

" _Shit_ ," Spanner hissed as he thought of Shamal's words. "Was he right after all?"

It was unfortunate how there was absolutely nothing that he could use as a shield from the brunet's relentless attacks. The foundation of the abandoned warehouse was weak enough; one wrong move and it would collapse on them.

He was in the middle of contemplating jumping off of the building through the window when the sound of metal hitting the concrete echoed in his ears. Baffled, he turned and watched as the brunet suddenly dropped to his knees while desperately clawing at his head and unconsciously ripping the gauze clean off of himself. Blood was quick to soak through his clothing and fingers, alerting the blond-haired teen that the movements had reopened his wounds even more than they already have when they carried him here.

That caused an uncharacteristic surge of panic in Spanner as he threw caution in the wind and ran towards the teenager curling into himself as he breathed heavily through his mouth. Just when the beginnings of horrified screaming started, Spanner hurriedly shoved his hand into the brunet's mouth and he winced when the brunet _latched_ onto it. His teeth sank and blood trickled down his fingers and arm as he, too, fought the urge to scream in pain. It had _hurt_ more than he expected.

"Spanner I got- wha- _Spanner!?_ "

Just in time, Irie came running around the corner with the newly bought medical supplies, momentarily frozen by the sight of Spanner on the ground, a misplaced metal bar that was dangerously close to his friend, and an undoubtedly awake brunet who was biting into Spanner's hand.

"What… are you doing, Shoichi," Spanner breathed as he closed one eye in pain. When was he going to stop _biting_? "Hurry… up."

"I- sorry," Irie apologized quickly as he ran to them, setting to prepare the materials and got to work. As soon as he had touched the brunet's shoulder, the mouth that clamped down on Spanner's hand tentatively let go and Irie watched with horror as blood dribbled down his chin and neck.

"What the _hell_ happened while I was gone?"


End file.
